


Can We Get Another Chance to Try?

by Miriage



Category: Homestuck
Genre: "Can We Try...?, Can Be Interpreted As Alternate Universe or Canon, Can Be Interpreted as either Jake's or Dirk's POV, Day At The Beach, Fluff, Heartwarming, Implied Breakup, Implied Relationships, Implied Renewed Relationships, Innocent, Love, M/M, Melancholy, Naked Cuddling, Ocean, Second Chances, Skinny Dipping, hand holding, soft touches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:11:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriage/pseuds/Miriage
Summary: "Back then, skinny-dipping was done to let off some steam. It was done when you were both a little too drunk. It was done as a dare of sorts. It was a done as a way to prove who was manlier.
Now, older and wiser, you had only wanted to do it as a kind of call back to those days. Days that you didn’t necessarily miss but days that made you who you are today. You wanted to do it remind yourself that you were alive. Alive and breathing. Alive and living."





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Rachie's "Goodbye Ms. Flower Thief." When I wrote this. This can be interpreted as canon or fanon. It can be interpreted from Dirk's or Jake's POV.

You decide to take initiative and go first, starting with your shirt. It peels off and over your head easily enough. Next comes your belt.

 

It hits the sand with a thud.

 

You hesitate at your pants now, wondering whether or not you should take just it off or remove both it and the boxers your wearing underneath them. Your fingers hesitate, slowly rubbing against the clothes before you decide to just fuck it and remove them both. Now, with all your clothes taken off your clothes, you look at him and gesture, inviting him to do the same but only if he wants to.

 

(You won’t be surprised if he doesn’t.)

 

He’s blushing (or course he is. After all, you’re naked) but to your surprise he begins to follows suit, albeit slower than you. Your brain does a slight double take and you can suddenly hear a thudding in your ears, as if someone is knocking on the side of your head, but despite that you can’t help but smile as he hesitantly lifts the hem of his shirt. You can tell he’s nervous, and hell why wouldn’t he be? The last time you did something so innocent and so idiotic, was when you were both young dumb teenagers.

 

Back then, skinny-dipping was done to let off some steam. It was done when you were both a little too drunk. It was done as a dare of sorts. It was a done as a way to prove who was manlier.

 

Now, older and wiser, you had only wanted to do it as a kind of call back to those days. Days that you didn’t necessarily miss but days that made you who you are today. You wanted to do it remind yourself that you were alive. Alive and breathing. Alive and living.

 

As his shirt goes over his head you can’t help but be reminded of what he looked like then and compare it to what he looks like now. Back then he wasn't as defined. Back then he was pretty much the lightest lightweight you had ever met (only getting drunk after half a bottle of beer.) Back then his voice would invade more than your personal breathing space. It would invade everything.

 

Now, you were lucky if that voice was even directed to you.

 

(Which begged the question as to why he was even willing to do this with you now.)

 

You decide to spare him some decency and turn around, inviting him to finish his stripping without your watchful eyes. (You can hear clothes and what sounds like the clinking of a belt buckle hitting the grainy sand.)

 

The rustling of clothes stops and there’s a sudden silence behind you.

 

“Ready?” you ask (still not looking at him.) He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear footsteps and you suddenly feel his fingers brush against yours, as if asking you to take them. You index finger awkwardly finds his thumb, and then moves to his palm. Your four other fingers follow suit.

 

Wow.

 

You two are now holding hands. Another thing you haven’t done since you were both teenagers (which again raises the question of why he was even doing this with you in the first place when you two clearly weren’t drunk off of anything right now.)

 

You take a chance and look quickly at your hands. Enclosed in yours his look almost small. Dainty. Kinda feminine actually now that you really study them. Of course he’d kick your ass if you told him his hands looked like lady’s hands.

 

(Or maybe he wouldn’t.)

 

You look away and, with a tug, you lead him down to the shore. You especially make sure not to look at him (either out of respect for him or your embarrassment you’re not sure) but you can almost feel his eyes trail down your back as your bare feet slap against the wet sand.

 

(It sends a shiver down your spine.)

 

The sound of the waves is distracting yet it still doesn’t make the awkwardness any less present.

 

“It’s beautiful out here.” You say, wanting to break some of his still held tension. You’re surprised when he responds.

 

“Reminds me of when we were kids.”

 

He’s agreeing with you. Good. That’s a good sign. You think.

 

You still don’t look at him when the water level reaches your thighs. You make sure that your bottom half (and to an extent, his) is covered before you finally turn around to face him. He’s not exactly looking at you, focusing instead to stare down at the turquoise, blue water that is lapping against your sides.

 

You gulp nervously, trying to somehow transform ocean air into courage for the sake of your sanity.

 

Hesitantly, experimentally, (hands still intertwined) you take a step forward. You watch as he tenses but doesn’t move. Taking that as a bad sign, you take a step back

 

He…. actually flinches when you do this.

(Huh.)

 

You take another step forward. This time he doesn’t do anything.

 

You risk another step.

 

“Hi.” You whisper. (You’re now really close to him.)

 

His eyes trails up your chest to meet yours and your breath hitches at how wide and, innocent his expression looks. (It’s a look that makes your ears feel hot and makes that awful knocking in your head become more painful.)

 

“Hi.” He answers back.

 

He still doesn’t move. Or flinch. Or tense up.

 

(That’s a good sign, right?)

 

“Hi.” You say again, but this time you hope he can hear the words you are actually trying to speak. The words you really trying to say. You hope he can pick up the words of “Tell me to back up now if you don’t like this.”

 

“Hi.” He answers back again and this time he nods a little while he looks at you. It’s a look that is half challenging you and half telling you that he trusts you.

 

(It’s a look he hasn’t given you in a long time.)

 

(Why he would give it you now is, again, beyond you.)

 

You’re close enough to hug him now. You’re close enough to be able to do more than just hold his hand. You’re close enough to tap the top of lips against yours. Instead you pause. You hesitate. You wait for him to push you back.

 

(You don’t want him to push you back though.)

 

You move in microseconds, making sure you move _slow, slow, slow_ , as you lean down and breach his personal space.

 

(You really don’t want him to push you back.)

 

You don’t hug him, you don’t kiss him (though you want to do both) but you do position your face so that you directly in front of his.

 

He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t tense up. He doesn’t make any sign that he doesn’t like this.

 

(You can’t help but suddenly feel more anxious than you have felt in your entire life.)

 

You close your eyes ask quietly if this is okay.

 

This time you can hear his breath hitch.

 

That’s all you needed and what feels like a cross between relief and utter devastation passes through you. You’re relieved that he knows what he wants. You’re relieved that he can speak for himself. But you’re devastated that what he wants isn’t-

 

(It’s painful to even think of the word.)

 

You say you’re sorry and you’re suddenly painfully aware how uncomfortably close this is and how you can feel his breath against your face.

 

“Sorry.” you say again. He still doesn’t say anything. But when you begin to pull away he leans into you.

 

It’s faint, like its barely there. But it’s also there at the same time.

 

It’s also quick. There and gone.

 

(He just kissed you.)

 

This time you really pull away.

 

“Sorry.” You say again, but this time more desperate and more pained. The water splashing around you suddenly feels too cold against your hot body.

  
Why are you apologizing?” he asks, confused. You just shake your head, eyes still closed.

 

“You didn’t need to do that.” You say, the pounding echoing throughout your body.

 

(That’s your heart isn’t it?)

 

He’s quiet, but answers slowly (and confidently),

 

“I wanted to.”

 

Now the tables have reversed. You don't want to look at him but he wants to look at you. The splashing water against your back suddenly makes you painfully aware of how what a fragile state you are both in. Naked, free of clothing, free of anything, nothing to hide when you really should be hiding.

 

He presses a wet hand against your cheek and you chance a glance at him. To your surprise he’s smiling and you want ask him why when he leans and whispers something softly in your ear. His breath makes tiny chills run over you and causes your shoulders to rise ever so slightly.

 

“Can we try….?” he asks, in an almost hopeful voice. He doesn’t add in the last word but you think you know what it is. You nervously gulp.

 

“You sure?” you ask. The hand removes itself from your face and trails a wet line from your torso to your exposed hipbone. You shudder at the contact

 

“If you’re okay with it.” He says, almost teasingly. “Please…. tell me you’re okay with it.”

 

Of course you are. You’ve always been. But you can’t say anything because your mouth has suddenly turned to sand paper and your mind can’t process what is going on.

 

He presses his wet lips against your Adam’s apple and you let out a soft gasp.

 

“Is this okay?” he asks. You nod. He kisses, this time a different spot on your neck. You moan softly.

 

His hand which was grasping yours moves to wrap around your back and you’re suddenly pressed flushed against him and you can feel all of him.

 

“Is this okay?” he asks again. You gasp out a “yes” before he begins to kiss your neck again.

 

“Can we really try…?” you ask. You leave out the last part (just like him) but you know he knows what you had wanted to say.

 

He smiles into your neck.

 

“Yes.” He says. You choke back a sob.

 

“Yes?’

 

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy almost holidays! Here's some Dirk and Jake. I love them. I love you.
> 
> (I love winter break. My ass hurts from sitting down and studying.)
> 
> Which POV did you think this was from? For me it started off as one POV, but as I reread it I realized it sounded more like the other.


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